Drown (In Dark Water)
by sunstonesea
Summary: It's a full moon on a cold night, and those who rise with the sun should be asleep—but after all, he's always struggled to reconcile head and heart. Everything narrows to sweat-slick brown skin and a dark fall of hair and eyes as brilliant as the sea. Smut.


It's a full moon on a cold night, and those who rise with the sun should be asleep. But the bite of the wind has him shivering in his bedroll, and the chill air stings his dry nose and throat. Breathing hurts. In his head, he curses the South Pole.

He knows that he needs moisture and heat, and where he really wants to be is soaking up steam in the hot spring where they'd all taken turns bathing earlier. But he thinks about leaving his sack of furs, paltry defense though it is against the cold, and the horror of it makes him shudder even harder.

Around him, no one else appears to be suffering. Toph is in her customary earth tent, snoring peacefully if uproariously. Katara and Sokka are out of sight on the other side of the slabs of rock, but if anything, they seem to be sleeping better as the temperatures drop. Aang, curled up as he is on Appa's furry side, probably even feels pleasantly toasty. Gritting his teeth against a mounting sense of injustice, Zuko makes it another ten minutes before he can't stand it—he wriggles out of his bedroll and, with a horrible grimace, gathers his courage and scrambles for the hot spring.

He's completely numb by the time he climbs up to where the pool is hidden behind a pile of boulders. He has to brace himself on the nearest rock and clap a hand over his nose, as if to make sure it hasn't fallen off on the way. Even so, he can detect a bare hint of sulphur in the steam curling around the rocks and, eager despite himself, Zuko squeezes through the gap in the boulders. Then he looks down, and almost bites off his own tongue trying to silence a yelp.

Katara is not quietly asleep back at the camp.

No, Katara is in the water, and she looks strange and wild as a spirit rising from the depths of the pool. She is in the water, her hair loose in dark waves that float and fan around her on the surface of the small current, and she is naked and near-glowing in the moonlight. The blood leaves Zuko's head in a rush that makes him stumble dizzily against the rocks.

From here, he can see everything—the tops of her breasts, glistening with the slick mineral water; her hands, rising to cup them; her fingers, tugging sharply at the nipple. From here he can see her stroking herself to hard peaks, and as _You rise with the moon_ comes to his mind, unbidden, he feels an answering hardness jerk almost painfully between his legs.

He knows, he knows that he should look away; that this is a matter of honor, hers and his, and that every moment he stands here, transfixed, dishonors a good friend. But he's always struggled to reconcile head and heart, and as she brings her hand to her lips and her tongue flicks lazily to swirl around her fingers, he thinks his heart might burst.

She licks downward to circle her palm, rubs that palm over her taut stomach before dragging it up to roll over her nipples. Then her hand disappears deep under the water and makes a movement that makes her head fall back onto the pool's rocky edge. The arch of her back pushes her breasts up to the starlit sky, and Zuko's mental protests dissolve into a senseless babble.

Dimly he's aware of his own ragged breathing, the harshness of it dulled by the steam in the air. He's hard, hard enough that his legs are shaking under him; half-blind with need, Zuko bites back a groan and reaches inside his pants to wrap his hand around his cock. He strokes down once, twice, in time with the rapid rise and fall of Katara's chest as she pants through parted lips.

Her eyes are squeezed closed, but her hand moves rhythmically under the surface, and the water roils around her, her element answering to her unconscious call. The sound of her gasps travels strangely over the water, and for a wild moment he imagines her gasping like that as she moves under him, hot and slow and good. Hungrily, he watches her swallow, and he's seized by the desire to lick at the expanse of her throat, to suck on the pulse that beats in the hollow of her collarbone.

Long and slim, her fingers catch his eye as they return to toy with her nipples, this time pulling and pinching until they're reddened against her dusky skin. A hiss escapes from between her teeth, pain mixed with pleasure, and the sound makes him even harder; in his mind it's him dragging those sounds from her throat, nipping at her as he kisses down her chest, it's his fingers against her skin and between her legs, and the image makes him flinch as he circles his thumb over his tip, his fist tightening unconsciously.

As her movements slip out of rhythm, Katara sucks her lip into her mouth, biting it as she strains toward release. She looks delirious, delicious, and when she comes, hard, arching clear off the rock with her mouth open in a soundless scream, he follows just moments later, spilling into his hand with a strangled grunt. Her body is tight as a bowstring, tendon and muscle straining under that beautiful brown skin, until finally she gives a gasping breath and falls back to the stone, still shaking with tremors. Zuko sags against the nearest boulder and tries to remember how to think.

He's still struggling to figure out his own name, never mind planning an escape, when Katara's head lolls to the side and her eyes drift open. Her gaze is sleepy, hazy with satisfaction, but when it locks on Zuko's, his whole world freezes, as surely as if she'd bent it into ice. Everything seems to narrow to sweat-slick brown skin and a dark fall of hair and eyes as brilliant as the sea. The air catches in his throat and chokes him.

Zuko's brain stutters awake long enough to assure him that she is going to drown him in that pool. The warmth in his body turns to a hot flush of shame, leaving him fully expecting, almost willing, to die right here. What he does not expect is for her to smile at him through hooded eyes. He also does not expect those eyes to drop to his open pants. He certainly does not expect her to flick her gaze back up to his and lick her lips. The heated expression on her face pins him into place, even as his own expression slides into panic.

He snaps out of his paralysis, coming back to himself with a jolt, and before he can notice the uncertainty stealing into Katara's eyes, Zuko turns and flees.

* * *

_Written for justkeepshippingg on Tumblr. Possibly a part two to come, but for now it's a oneshot._


End file.
